


Red is the color of war

by fullmetalbi



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crimson Flower Route, Drinking, F/F, Hanahaki Disease, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23801710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullmetalbi/pseuds/fullmetalbi
Summary: Dorothea realized that she had the Hanakaki disease the day after they attacked Garreg March. Almost a week after discovering Edelgard was the Flame Emperor. Hours after watching her disappear in a carriage to travel to Embarr again, after asking her when they would meet again and getting only an “I don’t know” for response.And she knew she was going to die. Because they were at war and Edelgard wasn’t going to back down. And she knew because she had fought with her, because she had seen her practicing with her lance until the movements got to her and she passed her exam. Because she had seen the look on her eyes when she found an obstacle on her way. Because she had seen her unbreakable will. Bitch, she had fallen for that unbreakable will.So, she knew Edelgard had no time for romances. And that meant that, soon, she would have none at all.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Ferdinand von Aegir & Dorothea Arnault
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	1. The girl who bled roses

Dorothea realized that she had the Hanakaki disease the day after they attacked Garreg March. Almost a week after discovering Edelgard was truly the Flame Emperor. And hours after watching her disappear in a carriage to travel to Embarr again, after asking her when they would meet again and getting only an “I don’t know” for response.

She had returned to the improvised camp and had found Manuela. They had talked and Manuela helped her to master that healing spell she had been working on during the lasts months in the academy. Then, she just started healing the soldiers and commoners that still were bedridden.

“Focus on the ones that are unconscious, but alive. Those who are in pain will come after then, but to suffer, they should live first. So go and save some lives, kid.”

She did as she was told, healing as many people as she could. She healed soldiers with broken legs, men whose body had been opened. People who had lost their limbs to magic. Boys with the heads of the arrows that hit them still in their bodies.

She healed them through her tears, biting her lip to force herself to maintain a straight face. She healed them without daring to look deeper into their eyes and see herself. She healed then pouring every bit of herself into her spells and sprinting away from their beds, unable to remain more than a second next to so many pain without bringing and end to it. She healed despite the trembling of her hands and her shaky voice.

She just healed. Just like she used to sing. She healed, healed and healed. She just emptied herself in the healing.

But, unlike singing, the magic took a physical toll on her. And it just arrived a point in which she just felt so ill and repelled by the wounded, by the dead, by the whole evil that had made everything of all that possible, that she just stormed outside and threw up behind some bushes.

She almost choked herself while doing so. She remembered shaking and coughing violently, as if her body wanted her to vomit her own heart to alleviate all that pain. Her eyes where blind with tears and she felt her throat stinging with pain. It was more painful than anything she remembered.

When she finished shaking, she smiled. _At least this pain has ended_ , she whispered to herself, although her voice died on her lips as soon she opened her eyes.

Floating in a puddle of blood, an insultingly beautiful and pink water lily opened its petals to her.

She breathed carefully through her nose. _This is not the climate for water lilies_ , she thought at first. _There was no water lily here before I came_ , she remembered then. But it was her third thought the one who sent her into hell.

_Wait, is this my blood?_

Then, her head raced nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

If only she had been less of a romantic kid. If only she was less curious. If she had never gotten into the Academy… If Manuela had never been teaching there, or at least, not to the Black Eagle class… If they had never met before and had never spoken about anything…

If she had not made that damned question.

“Professor Manuela”, she remembered asking her in the green house, one week end, “that common flower illness that was shown in many operas isn’t real, is it?”

She had asked that innocently.

They were just watering the flowers and Dorothea was gushing about how much she liked the roses. She remembered watching them on rich people’s hands trying to woo her with them, the public throwing them to her in the midst of applause, the carefully sewn flowers on the dresses that she wore when representing the young and naive girl that the protagonist of the opera had to fall in love with…

But, above all, she remembered the roses that she faked coughing in one of her favorite songs in the theater. She remembered ending that song teary eyed, with the rose in her hand and herself alone in the whole stage, filled completely with her voice.

It was from a silly opera. A naive girl fell in love with a general, when he asked her to marry him, but only to abandon her soon after. Then, she just walked through the streets asking for money to strangers. Nobody gave her a single coin, but, after hearing the news of the general marrying another girl, she began to cough flowers, an attempt from her body to extract all that love that she had for him, since it had turned poisonous and would kill her.

People disliked that girl. They felt disgust before her dirty face and old clothes. But they liked the flowers she coughed. They began to buy them to her in exchange of food, some new dresses, a room… The -more time it passed, the more beautiful they were, but the more ill the girl was. But she didn’t minded. She was alive and that was all that mattered.

Then, in the third act, there was a beautiful ball in the house of that unloyal general. She decided to attend, not with the wish of making him fall in love with her again, but with the aim of reminding him how she was still alive and had never needed him as she thought she had. But she had no jewels to wear and she was too proud to stand in the middle of vain women and fake men looking inferior to them. She was superior.

She stayed up the night before, remembering pathetically her life and asking to the moon and the stars to gift her with such a beautiful flower that any rock or crystal looked like old dust next to it. It was a beautiful and painful song, a song of a girl who had nothing and was looked down until her pain was able to bore something so precious that all those who had scorned her turned around and adored her.

Dorothea liked it because she felt that, while singing it, she was also singing about her life. About all the years living in the streets, singing to the dogs and cats that roamed through the city without feeling cold not heat. About her deep hatred of the vane creatures that filled the theater in front of her. About her fear of growing old and gray and losing the only thing that made her life valuable in front of others.

Before the last line of the song, she coughed the flower. It was sometimes a natural rose, but they had painted it so that the borders of the petals where white as snow, since it was the moon the one who created it. She held it high, before her eyes, and then sang a beautiful long and high note before the lights faded to black and the standing ovation deafened her.

After it, there was only one last scene. The ball took place and she looked as beautiful as the moon in the middle of the sky. She danced with some really rich and important men, like a knight from the king, then the richest merchant, and even the prince himself. However, the girl dodged all their proposals, until she found herself in the front of the general. He did nothing, but, when she was going to go away, he took her arm and confessed to her that he still loved her and hadn’t been able to forget her.

Then, in contrast of all things Dorothea could have done in the moment, the girl forgave him and accepted to marry him again after he got a divorce from his wife. They kissed each other and the girl was happy, “so happy that she could die”. They danced together and he repeated his vows of love to her. She accepted them, like a fool, and smiled, and loved him again.

However, her body still hadn’t recovered from the illness. Sensing so much love growing in her heart again, it turned into a giant white rose, that choked her completely until killing her in the same place. The opera ended with her on the ground, the red rose still on her chest and a white flower stuffed in her mouth. The lights faded and the ovation was complete.

Dorothea disliked that last scene. She disliked that the girl was forced again to trust a man that hurt her so bad. She disliked that she was still in love with him, but also that she died when she could have been happy at last. Or not ill. That’s why she hated white roses.

She was thinking about that, about how she wouldn’t be forced to “cough flowers” to live anymore, while she watered the plants. In fact, she ended up singing a tune from that opera and thanking the goddess she had never fallen in love with someone and probably never would. After all, if her heart was never broken, her body wouldn’t have to remove it by creating flowers. Coughing flowers, what a horrible way to die… But, she thought, that was all nonsense the writer of the opera made up. She had nothing to worry about.

So that’s why she asked that question. Only to calm her mind about that matter.

However, Manuela did not gave her the answer she desired.

“The Hanahaki disease?”

“Yeah? I don’t know its name. But that illness that makes you cough flowers when you love someone that doesn’t love you back until you die.”

“It is extremely rare, but not invented. Nowadays there aren’t barely any cases I can tell you about, but I’ve seen many books describing it and… you don’t want that illness, kid. Not even Archbishop Rhea was able to cure a man infected that sickness. It’s like a virus that invades your body until it kills you.”

Dorothea had opened her eyes, distraught.

“It sounds terrible.”

“It is. We are lucky younglins nowadays are so focused on studying and fighting instead of flirting and falling in love. It saves us from that.”

“But is it truly because of love? Isn’t that absurd? It should be the result of a bad spell. Like Hades, or something like that.”

“No, it’s not because of a spell. I wish it could be. Then, there would be a cure for it.”

“Oh, there isn’t any cure?”, asked Dorothea, feeling a pang of panic invade her.

“Sadly, it isn’t. It is caused by unrequited feelings towards a person: you love and they don’t love back. And you can only be saved if the one you desire loves you back. So simple, and so complicated at the same time. Because it has to be love, not pity, not friendship, not sadness. Love. Who even feels that on this day and age?”

Dorothea forced herself to laugh, ignoring the chill she felt on her back.

“Not me. At least with men so shitty as I have to find each day.”

“But, kid, didn’t you come here to find a husband? You won’t do that with that attitude!”

“I can marry a man without love if he has a big enough pocket and a bearable enough character. Let love for the opera. I just want to be able to grow old clothed and fed.”

“Dorothea, kid, I envy you. You are young and beautiful, and don’t want to sell short yourself, even though all desire you. Keep that attitude. It will get you far.”

“You are so beautiful yourself, I should be the one envying you!”

“No, no kid. You are beautiful, even before blooming. When you bloom, ah!, not a single man in Fodland will be able to resist you. I hope you can fall in love then, and have the rich husband that will spoil you and care for you and love you until you are old and grey. Because you deserve it.”

“Well, let’s not ask too much and end up empty handed. For now, I have some rich kids on my mind. Now I just need to stop wishing to kill them when they talk to me. Love… I’ll worry about that when I’m settled down. I can always get a lover or abandon my husband if I find a better match!”

“Look at her. A heartbreaker. Be careful, don’t let anyone get your heart then!”

Don’t let anyone get your heart then.

Those words sounded so far away, but Dorothea remembered them so clearly as if Manuela was pronouncing them next to her.

Don’t let anyone get your heart then.

She smiled through the tears.

Edelgard hadn’t broken her heart.

 _Yet_.

What could she expect from a person who had been lying the whole time they were together? She didn’t even hint that she was the Flame Emperor. Yes, she was critical of the church, but… going as far as torturing literal children for that?

She didn’t hate Edelgard when she was next to her blood. Then she was too scared to think about anything that wasn’t her imminent death. But, later, when she was tucked in a thin blanket in an improvised camp, hearing the cries that fear and helplessness forced out the people? Then she hated her.

_Why did I had to fall for you?_

_Why did you have to start this war?_

_Why did you have to be so far away from me?_

_Why don’t you love me?_


	2. The blood in your hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week later after hell broke loose, Dorothea reencounters with some of her classmates and they decide to travel to Embarr together to speak with Edelgard. However, despite some things being changed, some will remain the same, or so it seems.

The next day, the healing resumed.

Dorothea still felt drowsy from the crying she had done, but gave herself to the work as hard as she could. But maybe was the Hanahaki, maybe was the crying, maybe it was the hatred she felt for Edelgard. She couldn’t know, but she had a difficult time focusing enough to cast the spells. And she soon wore out.

She waited in a chair as Manuela tended wound after wound. She saw her speak with her soft voice unchanged with each person that passed. And she saw her try to alleviate the pain and the fear that choked them. She admired her treating each of those persons as if they were the only people she had seen in the whole day.

But even Manuela had limits. Some hours before lunch, she locked herself in her room. She didn’t allow Dorothea to join her, justifying herself with a: “kid, I really don’t want to let you down, so it’s better if you don’t see me in some moments”.

Then she locked the door and Dorothea could her her crying and gulping probably some liquor. She would have tried to talk her out of it so that she could rest on her, just like she had offered Dorothea solace when she needed it. But when she was about to knock again, someone in the end of the corridor attracted her attention.

“Lady…”

There were still wounded people in pain.

She wished she didn’t saw him. She wished he didn’t notice that she had seen him too. Partly, she wished that he decided it would be impolite to importunate her.

“… sorry if it’s impolite for me to bother you…”

Dorothea sighed internally.

“… but my sister is dying.”

She was truly tired. And it wasn’t as if she was about to have a long time ahead of her.

“She has been bleeding since the battle resumed. We thought it wasn’t as bad as others, that’s we didn’t ask for help. However, today she was too weak to even speak, so we fear she has not much time if she stays as she is now”, he continued.

_She doesn’t have time. Neither do I._

She could have walked away. She was tired. And she was no goddess. She deserved to rest.

But that man looked as tired as her and far more desperate. A man who had had everything taken from help. Maybe Ferdinand would have turned him away so. Or Lorenz. But how can you forget that you have been a thousand of times in the same place of that commoner? How can you forget apologizing for bothering to a rich person when your life was on the line?

She could get by without resting yet, so she swallowed her tiredness, her need to cry and her despair to face the man.

“Where is your sister?”

The sister of that man was in a terrible state. It was such a terrible sigh that she was unable to even look at her without feeling her eyes filled with tears. But her eyes lighted up when she saw her. “She can heal you”, she heard that he whispered to her ear.

Dorothea would have told her to not have so much faith. That the world was cold and cruel and maybe it would be even better for her if she died now and spared herself from what seemed to be a terrible war.

Edelgard wasn’t going to back down. And she knew because she had fought with her, because she had seen her practicing with her lance until the movements got to her and she passed her exam. Because she had seen the look on her eyes when she found an obstacle on her way. Because she had seen her unbreakable will. _Bitch_ , she had fallen for that unbreakable will.

But, when your enemy is a dragon? Is it possible to win that war? Is it possible to come alive from that war? _Why did you do it?_

After that girl, a different brother came, but he didn’t want a cure for his sister, rather his friend, whose leg was bleeding profusely. Then, it was a girl with a dying boyfriend. A mother with a nephew. A man with his father. A brother with a brother.

It was never ending.

She never realized when did Manuela exit the room and sat down next to her to heal people again. She just realized that the wounds were healing quicker and found her brown bob next to her. She said nothing. Just continued healing.

The next day stayed the same. And the next. She threw up a couple of nights in the forest. She heard a myriad of different last words and ways to say goodbye to a person. Not even a week after all hell had broken loose, something changed.

Petra appeared.

Petra appeared and held her hand, told her to cry if she wanted to and, when the tears ended, explained her what they could do.

“We should go to Embarr. We will be safer there and, hopefully, we will learn what the fuck Edelgard intends to do. We will be also to send more help to these people.”

Petra’s voice was deep and nice. It calmed the pain and sadness that had been floating around Dorothea for days. And her usage of the world fuck was… strange, since she was still the youngest in the academy, barring Lysithea. This was probably the first time Dorothea heard her swear. But she wasn’t going to call her out for that. She was already too thankful for her presence.

It felt wrong to find solace in her, since it should be otherwise, she should be protecting and comforting the young girl. But Petra had an air of confidence about her that made her feel safe. Like there was a chance for everything to end up fine. Like nothing would harm her as long as she had her.

 _Just like Edelgard had_.

Dorothea shook her head to drive those thoughts away. Had Edelgard not declared the war, she wouldn’t be in the verge of tears while watching a child who was held hostage by the fucking government Edelgard had taken over be the only one who had given a fuck about her and her safety. Petra should have been with her family. Petra should have never been forced to leave her family. Fuck. The war and the misery of Fódland should have nothing to do with her. An Edelgard shouldn’t have left leaving her in the middle of nowhere, damned to die without not a single person to remember her. Why, why, why?

“Where are we going to stay in Embarr? I don’t live in the city and neither do you.”

Petra signaled to her side with her head and Dorothea realized that Bernadetta was hiding behind Petra, scared and spooked, like a baby chick. Dorothea was so surprised of her presence that she couldn’t even react and ask her where had she been, if she was alright and a thousand more things.

“My… my parents have a small palace near the city”, she said, looking up to Petra unsurely. Dorothea saw how Petra’s hand was clasped around her arm, to give her support. “We could go there… if you don’t mind, of course.”

“But, won’t be your father there?”, asked Dorothea. The thought of Bernadetta having to stay with a man that had harmed her so much made all the soft beds and bubble baths turn into a destiny worse than death. “You don’t have to return there, Bernie. We will figure up what to do.”

She forced a smile on her lips. Bernadetta needed more help than her. She had to be there for her.

“But you don’t have any place to stay. It would be selfish from me to not take you there if you need it…”

Petra nodded to her side.

“Well, won’t Ferdie have too a house in the capital?”, said Dorothea. “Luckily, the prime minister will have some spare rooms to house us.”

“B-but Ferdinand…”

Dorothea shook her head and forced herself to smile. _There is still hope_.

“If he doesn’t offer us a place to sleep out of his free will, I’ll bully him to do so.”

However, that didn’t made her smile, like Dorothea had thought. She looked even more scared than she used to. Or maybe sadder.

“Ferdinand isn’t in his best moment right now”, said Petra, tactfully.

“What?”

They didn’t answer. But they took her into the woods surrounding Garreg March until they found a cave near one of the rivers. On the way, Dorothea learned that they had spent their weeks tracking the church and the imperial soldiers, that Rhea and the knights of Seiros were in Faerghus and that Caspar and Linhart had been shipped to the capital by order of Caspar father, who had tried to catch Bernadetta too, but she had fled before they could actually forced to return home.

Home.

That was where they were all returning.

Home.

It was such a strange word. She had not used it often, after all, she had been running down the streets, nowhere to go before she could even stop counting her age with her fingers. And the opera had been a home, but one covered in knifes and where all walls had ears and all flowers hid a snake. Maybe Garreg March had been somewhat a home for her. A place where she could relax and sleep peacefully. A place where she could trust other people and she was not always under a pair of eyes judging whether she was good enough to continue existing or not.

But well. Garreg March was no more. Thanks to a special someone.

She gritted her teeth.

Probably Edelgard didn’t even remember that she didn’t have a home. Obviously, she had one so big and so luxurious. Who isn’t an emperor?

Her thoughts stopped when they arrived to a rather paradisiacal spot. She did not know a place like that could exist. It was exactly as some props in the opera.

The stone was covered in moss and the grass shined under the sun’s rays that filtered between the branches. Only the sound of the stream could be heard. And, in the middle, a nameless soldier sitting with his head down. Had Bernie and Petra not told her who he was, she would have never guessed that the worn out man was that loud noble who used to be named Ferdinand von Aegir.

“Ferdie!”, she called him, but when he looked at her. any other word she had died in her throat.

He seemed tired. There were dark bags under his eyes and he was incredibly dirty. The dirtiest Dorothea had never seen him. This shirt, always snow white, was stained. His hair had a layer of dust resting on its top, making brownish his orange tone. And his hands were covered in cuts, covered in both blood and mud. She felt an impulse to kneel next to him and heal them.

So she did nothing and watched him stand up to greet them. One of his legs was stiff.

 _Maybe he was wounded too_.

However, Ferdinand said nothing. He didn’t complain, although he obviously limped a little to get near them. Dorothea noticed too how he didn’t dare to look at them. Not even when she asked him how he was doing. He looked ashamed.

“Thea. I’m glad you are safe”, he said, and she believed him. His voice, usually melodious and, maybe, a little mellifluous, was gone. It sounded coarse and dry. _He had also been crying_.

They soon got over the small talk he used to love. Instead, he went straight to the point. Unable to look at her in the eyes, he explained his situation.

“I didn’t know, but it seems it is final. Edelgard has had my father arrested and both our family title and lands have been taken away from us. So, I wouldn’t be able to house you, even if I wanted. I am so sorry.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. I was informed about it by Edelgard after the fiasco in the tomb. Before attacking Garreg March. And I received a letter from my family too. Although, I didn’t believe that she would… that she… that she would do that. But, when I tried to ask to travel to Embarr with her. Her uncle was there. And he told me, in front of several men, that I was nothing now. I am not Ferdinand von Aegir anymore. Maybe, not even Ferdinand. I suppose I’ll have to be glad that I’m not dead yet. But well. Now we are equals.”

He smiled weakly, but that didn’t comfort Dorothea.

“But you are still…”

“No. I’m no longer of political importance to no one. Her uncle made that clear. The lands of my family have been confiscated by the government, and all our wealth is theirs now. I have nothing but what I carry right now on my person.”

He looked so much humiliated that Dorothea couldn’t help but feel pity for him.

“Then we can only go to Bernie’s house…”, mused Petra.

“Would you have us?”, asked Ferdinand, suddenly expectant.

“Her father may be also in that house”, said she. “That’s why we wanted to talk with you.”

“Is he? Then, nothing. Although, if we all stay with you, maybe we can protect you from him.”

“Well…”

Bernadetta looked insecure, but willing enough to accept for her friends. Although it was painfully obvious that it wasn’t a pleasant choice for her.

“We won’t leave you alone”, promised Petra. “And we won’t allow that he does anything bad to you”.

“I could even try to fight him”, said Ferdinand. “If he died, you would inherit his fortune and title, wouldn’t you?”

“Ferdinand!”

“What?”, he asked defensively. “It’s not as if I have much to loose. My family wealth and good name is gone. What I have to protect anymore, if not my friends and life? Plus, is not as if those things are worthier than all of you. And her father… is not a good man. We all know that.”

Dorothea wanted to say something, but she felt her throat was too dry to even articulate a sound. In other world, she would have smiled at him for saying that. But they weren’t in that other world and she just felt numb and horrified. Ferdinand would have never suggested doing something like that. He would have been horrified if she had even uttered those words.

“Then… we should go and ask her what the fuck is she doing.”

“But, Petra, how?”, asked Ferdinand, showing a little bit more of desperation. “If she did not care enough about us to take us with her to Embarr, what the fuck do you think she’ll do if we just go to the Imperial Palace and we ask for an audience with her? Say, ‘hey, I’m sorry’ and repent of anything she’s done?”

“W-well, maybe she’s just really busy with the emperor… stuff”, stuttered Bernadetta.

“Forcing people to handle her their power, just like she did to her father and mine.”

“We will never know! And it’s Edelgard! She’d never ignore us if we asked her for help!”

It was maybe amazing, but it was the third or fourth amazing thing that Dorothea had seen in less than a week. So, even when it was astonishing seeing Bernie stand up to Ferdinand, who was dropping his usual subtleties and manners quicker and quicker, she just felt neutral to it. Maybe empty was a better world.

“So far, she has done so! And she’s the one who decided to fight a whole war and don’t care about telling us.”

“She hasn’t forced us to her side, but I’m sure that if we go to her…”

“If we go to her, what? She’ll ignore us and will send her uncle or Hubert to deal with us. Point blank. Do you want to have Hubert dispose of you?”

Ferdinand’s voice while saying that last word had been terrible. A little bit as if he was Hubert himself. But a more irascible Hubert.

Bernadetta gave a step back, but her eyes stayed resolved.

“Dorothea”, she called her. “Tell Ferdinand he’s wrong. Tell him that Edelgard won’t let us die in the middle of nowhere.”

_Well, so far she hasn’t done anything about it…_

“Stop fighting”, interrupted them both Petra. “It doesn’t matter if she attend us herself or sends her uncle, Hubert or the whole cabinet of ministers. I’m still the princess of Brigid. If they still fear my country in some way, they will address our petitions.”

“Fuck, yes! I forgot. How is that they didn’t took you with them? You are still our…”, Ferdinand gulped visibly. Even dirty and nameless, he’s still the son of the prime minister.

“Your guest”, completed Petra softly. “I am your guest and I am to be kept safe.”

“But you could return now to Brigid”, chipped Bernadetta. “Return with your family and stay with them. I don’t think Edelgard will force you to fight a whole war… And you are the youngest…”

“I don’t know. Anyway, I would like to ask her about that. If I can return to Brigid, if Brigid will be involved too in this war against the rest of Fódland… There are many things about this all that I wish to know. As her classmate, but also as Brigid princess. So we will all go there and ask her what is happening, what is she planning to do, when can you stay…”

Dorothea focused herself on the dirt under her feet. What she had to do with all that. She was a commoner. She had no familiar obligation to serve the Emperor, she was no hostage either and she had not a single complain for Edelgard… asides of the war and not loving her so she would die vomiting flowers drenched in her own blood, obviously. But, for outsiders, she was the kind of person who didn’t count anymore. Probably, the officials of the Empire wouldn’t even believe her if she told them she used to know the Emperor and even was her friend.

‘A little thing like you, friend of the emperor? You could become my friend too’

Just imagining their answer she felt chills on her back. And not pleasant ones.

They went back to the camp in silence. Petra and Bernadetta walked in front of them, clearly at home in the midst of nature, while Ferdinand and her limped behind them. She felt pangs of pain in her chest. Was it the disease, the utter sadness of it all, she did not know. She only knew that, when she tripped on a root, Ferdinand grabbed her arm and restored before she could fall, not saying a single thing about nobility or honor. He just stayed quiet and Dorothea thanked him mentally. She was too tired.

They met Manuela when they arrived at the camp. She basically welcomed them and led them to the interior of her “room” to heal Ferdinand’s leg. Dorothea marveled as how, even after all that pain and the exhaustion of all the spells she had performed day after day, she still had the energy to bully them, laugh at Ferdinand’s hair and tell Bernadetta how everything was going to be alright and that if someone was mean to her, she would punch them.

“These aren’t Lady Rhea’s fists, but I think I’ll do them something”, she said before taking a long sip from a bottle and kneeling next to Ferdinand. “Kid, how did you kept that wound for a literal week? Do you know the amount of things that could have happened to you? I could have had to cut it off, dummie! Why didn’t you pay more attention to Faith classes, uh?”

Her chattering was light and occupied the mind of Dorothea, filling a little bit of the void.

“So”, she said at last when she finished off with the healing and Petra had explained their plan. “You plan to go to Embarr”

“Yes, we do.”

“By foot?”

“We don’t have any carriage. But Bernadetta and I are good scouts and know how to manage in the wild, so we will be alright. Maybe, even safer than if we stayed here.”

“You won’t have the best appearance when you arrive”, noted her teacher.

“I am not the princess of Brigid because I wear pretty jewels and fabrics. I’ll be recognized. Plus, aren’t Caspar and Linhart on the capital? They could let us sleep there.”

Manuela smiled.

“Yes, Caspar and Lin! How could we forget about them?”, shouted Bernadetta.

“They both returned to Embarr with their parents”, said Ferdinand. “Or, well, with Linhart’s parents. But you get me. Had I known what was happening here, I would have told them to wait for us, but well. We were all supposed to return there one way or another. Although the negligence over Petra’s well being is unacceptable. A war could have resulted of that.”

_Of course. Petra had to be safe because she was noble. Just like Ferdinand, Bernadetta, Linhart and Caspar. Like all the people who don’t mind about this fucking war even though they will fight it._

The pain crept up her throat and expanded inside her chest, as if penetrating inside her rib cage. But she said nothing.

“Well, if we can do that little stop there, I’ll feel more relaxed. Not to be mean, Ferdinand, but the majority of guards you nobles have in the capital are fucking shitheads. Those men really act as if a person without ten pounds of gold in their pockets are beggars they can humiliate to their will and, how to word it, after singing in the opera and educating nobles and literal emperors, one is not going to let herself be treated like a prostitute or something. Not that prostitutes have nothing bad… you get me. Poor girls. Soldiers in war are the worst breed of men to find. If Edelgard is willing to listen to her teacher, I’m going to suggest her a couple of things… ”

“Professor Manuela!”

Ferdinand looked horrified, but Manuela looked as chill as if they were discussing the problems with the footwork in fencing class.

“Yes, kid?”

“Aren’t you going to stay with Rhea?”

“I…”

“They say Edelgard has started persecuting religious people of the capital. She is waging war against the church. Probably, she intends to slay all believers of the goddess.”

She focused herself on breathing through her mouth. The pain was too much.

“Ferdinand, slow down.”

“She is going to do what that man said. Seteth! She wants to become another goddess herself.”

“Ferdinand!”

“She… what, professor Manuela?”

Manuela’s thin lips were pressed until making a single line with them, her brows furrowed.

“I don’t know what Edelgard might be doing. And neither do you.”

“Well, they say…”

“They say many things. But even if the government was doing anything, we won’t know if it’s because the order of the emperor of some minister using her like a puppet. The emperor not always has all the power, and I’m sure that you know a lot of it, don’t you, Ferdinand?”

The man looked down and nodded. Dorothea grabbed her waist, trying to ease the torment through some pressure, but it was useless.

“Yes, I do.”

“And precisely because she’s waging war against the church, we should go to advice her. Because, maybe, she’s not completely against the religion. She wrote a manifesto, and sent it to different parts and lords of Fódland.”

Had she been in a better state of mind and body Dorothea would have felt curious. In some little way, she still did. _Maybe Edelgard didn’t_ _declare the war for nothing_ _…_

However, it was Bernadetta the one who voiced her concerns for her, since she was gritting her teeth to avoid crying.

“A manifesto?”

“Exactly that. I have one with the rest of my things. Hanneman managed to snuggle one out of Seteth vigilant eye. And in it she says that she intends to abolish the crest system.”

“But the church…”

“I don’t know if she intends to abolish the church or not. But, even if she does, she is still young. And she still needs help. I trust not a single liar mouth of that palace. Even if you don’t, as her teacher, I wish to sit down with her and just… talk.”

“But, what if she doesn’t listen to you?”, said Ferdinand. “What if she arrests you and kills you? What will you do next? Professor…”

“What if she kills you, Ferdinand?”, asked Manuela. “Or what if she kills Petra? Or, you, Dorothea? Are you still intending to travel to the capital, knowing all that?”

Dorothea slipped out of the tent, thanking the goddess of being already outside and in the darkness where nobody could see her falling into her knees, her eyes filled with tears. In the opera the illness was less sudden, or at least it seemed so. _Why_ _does_ _it hurt so badly?_ _I’m not that weak…_

“She can’t kill me without triggering a war with Brigid”, said Petra calmly. “That’s why I was here. I was, I am”, she corrected herself, “hostage to prove that Brigid won’t invade the Adrestian Empire in the future”.

“Kid, she has declared war to the church of Seiros. And by declaring the war on them, she has also antagonized the Kingdom of Faerghus. And, if she plans to extend the Empire, which I know she doesn’t want to, but will, she will fight too the Leistecer Alliance. Fighting Brigid would have been easier than all this. And a death-wish righ now.”

“But...”, Ferdinand looked a little bit out of his mind. “She cannot fight all of them at the same time and, also, against Brigid… It would be impossible. And if they allied themselves with Dagda, it would be way worse.”

“Yes”, answered Petra. “I guess so?”

Dorothea breathed, the ache hindering thanks to the fresh air. She could make it. She could make it. However, it quickly returned, with a wave of an even more penetrating pain than before.

“Well, then, Petra, could you declare war on her?”

Manuela giggled fakely.

“Weren’t we going to travel to Embarr to ask Eddie what the fuck is she doing? Why are we talking about Dagda and Brigid invading Adrestia, Ferdinand? Weren’t you the steadiest supporter of the empire, the man that should do what Edelgard is doing right now? What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Talking. About?”

“Well, Edelgard needs to be stopped and…”

Petra shook her head.

“Brigid can’t win another war. If we attacked Fódland another time, I fear that some nobles would push for our extermination. Plus, we are still recovering of the last one and I hoped that I could get our independence back. Edelgard seemed favorable to it back in the Academy.”

Dorothea coughed and it felt as if her insides where pouring through her mouth.

“Back in the Academy she was lying to us all”, he replied.

“Back in the Academy she did not hide how she wanted more independence from the church.”

She could literally feel the flowers and its petals piercing her tongue.

“Weren’t you all going to ask her? You can do just that. We would be there in a week… the soon we part, the soon we will arrive.”

“Then are you coming with us?”

It was hot and disgusting. She could not even close her mouth, since she gagged and had to throw up even more blood.

“It’s the wiser thing to do. It breaks my heart to leave these poor souls as they are, but I don’t think I’ll make a difference if we are attacked, so it’s better to go to Embarr and talk things out with the Emperor, don’t you think?”

“When should we part?”, asked Petra.

It finished at least. It was all out and all her insides cried because of the pain.

_Goddess, if this is going to get worse, just take me. Take me…_

“Give me a day to help these people to stay safe when we are gone. Dorothea can help me heal those who are still badly wound and… Dorothea, where are you, kid?”

Dorothea didn’t answer. She closed her eyes and just started to mix the blood and the flowers with the earth of the ground. _Please, let nobody notice this. Please…_

What was she going to do when they were all traveling? Or in Embarr? How was she going to explain it to the rest? I fell in love with Edelgard so now I’m going to die chocking in flowers? How the fuck she was supposed to do it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the creature. I shouldn't have posted this, since I've been trying to write the next chapter for half of this past week and I have nothing yet, plus, right now I have a lot of exams in the uni and I still have my other fic unfinished, but well, I have no self control, so I hope you enjoy it.  
> 


End file.
